


In Which York Assists Tex When She is Feeling Poorly

by RoyalHeather



Series: before there was red vs. blue there was project freelancer [11]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Gen, RvB Fluff Week, Sickfic, for Android
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-19
Updated: 2017-06-19
Packaged: 2018-11-15 23:36:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11241618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoyalHeather/pseuds/RoyalHeather
Summary: Fluff Week: Tex gets a cold, refuses to tell anyone, York figures it out and tries to help her.Androids don't get colds, but that doesn't mean they can't feel under the weather. Fortunately, York is here to help.





	In Which York Assists Tex When She is Feeling Poorly

At first Tex thinks she can ignore it, the slight fuzziness on her senses, the uncomfortable warmth between her shoulders. It happens occasionally, days where she just feels vaguely off, but she always powers through. That’s probably what this is, she thinks, aggressively tightening a lug nut on her bike. Nothing to worry about.

“… until tomorrow. What do you think?”

She glances up at York, leaning against his bike with his helmet off, bottle of water in his hand. It’s just the three of them by the side of this desert highway, not another living thing stirring under the noonday sun. After a second, she realizes that he’s looking down at her, waiting for an answer. “What?”

“I said, we probably don’t need to push today, since we don’t have to be in Voi until tomorrow.” York narrows his eyes at her. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” She gives the lug nut a final twist and gets to her feet. But as she does, something doesn’t calibrate right, and she has to take a sudden step back to keep her balance.

 _Agent Texas_ , says Delta in her ear. _Are you quite all right?_

_Don’t fuss, Delta, it’s not a good look._

By the time they get into town the heat is persistent and the fuzziness distracting, to the point it makes concentrating on more than one thing at a time difficult. By the time they’ve located an empty warehouse to squat in she’s cranky and irritable from feeling unable to watch her back.

“Tex? _Tex,_ ” says York, putting a hand on her shoulder, and she grabs his wrist without thinking. Or tries to, as her fingers end up closing around empty air. Tex stares at her fist, a full inch off from where she thought his wrist was. “Okay,” York continues, voice firm. “Texas. What’s up?”

He takes his helmet off to eye her sternly, and Tex returns his glare with interest, even though he can’t see it from behind her visor. “You know, if you don’t tell me, D will.”

“D can piss off.”

_I am only trying to help._

Growling, Tex turns back to where they’ve parked their bikes. “Don’t we have something to do?”

“Not at the moment.” York’s tone has flipped; now he sounds almost gentle. “D says you’re not feeling well.”

Sighing, Tex stops in her tracks; she’s tempted  to protest, but when it comes down to it she finds she just doesn’t care. “I guess.”

York rejoins her and reaches up to ease her helmet off; Tex allows him. He scrutinizes her, searching her face for any sign of what’s wrong, but Tex is sure she looks the same. “Are you overheating?” York asks.

Tex narrows her eyes at him. “A little, why?”

He takes off a glove and holds a hand up, palm flat, a couple inches away from her chest. “I can feel the heat from here.”

“Oh.”

_If you allow me to make contact, I can perhaps take a look and identify the problem._

_Yeah, sure, Delta._

York places his bare hand against the side of Tex’s face, and it’s cool, almost calming. Closing her eyes, Tex allows herself to lean into the touch a little, and when Delta touches her mind the feeling of coolness and clarity increases.

 _Ah,_ says Delta after a moment. _It seems one of your power cells is malfunctioning._

_That’s a problem._

_York and I can retrieve a new power cell. I have already identified the make and model necessary, and our chances of finding one in this city is eighty-seven point five percent._

Tex meets York’s gaze. “They’re not cheap. We can’t afford one.”

He grins, thumb curved around her cheek. “Tex. What makes you think I’m going to pay for it?”

Rolling her eyes, Tex smiles a little; it’s hard not to feel comforted by his easy willingness to help. “Don’t get caught.”

“Never been caught yet.”

She can still feel D, sending out little lines of thought through her circuits, seeking information. _Hey, ask a girl out to dinner first._

_I do not understand._

_It’s a joke, Delta,_ she sighs.

“C’mon.” York puts a casual arm around Tex, leads her back through the warehouse to where they’ve laid out their bedrolls, and Tex allows him to do so. “Don’t worry about me, okay?”

She’s not sure whether a better retort would be to say she never worries at all, or she worries all the time, and ends up with neither. It’s not until York sits her down and starts taking off her armor, and she tries to help, that she realizes her hands are shaking. But as piece after piece comes off, each one makes it a little easier to breathe, and the rush of cool air when she shrugs her breastplate off almost makes her giddy.

“Jesus,” says York, unbuckling her greaves. “You’re burning up –” A grin of irrepressible glee spreads across his face. “Do you think you have a _virus_?”

The only reason he can dodge Tex’s swat is because she’s not functioning optimally. “You know what, I can do the rest of this by myself,” she snaps, over York’s cackling. “Go on, go get the fusion cell.”

“Hey.” When he’s sure she won’t hit him again, York kneels in front of her, putting his hand back on her face. This time, though, it’s purely for the sake of touch. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

Tex raises an eyebrow. “You better.”

He grins, the scars around his eye bunching up. “Promise.”

For a brief second he leans forward, as if to kiss her on the forehead, and then pulls back to give her a quick salute instead. Tex taps him on the stomach with her fist. “Go.”

_While we retrieve the fusion cell, I would recommend hibernating to avoid further strain on the damaged unit._

_Noted, Delta._

\--

She awakes in steps, systems coming back online, circuits lighting, and the uncomfortable heat in her core is apparent immediately. Tex opens her eyes to see York kneeling over her, a worried frown on his face as he touches the back of his hand to her cheek. Almost immediately he jerks it away, wincing. “You’re _really_ hot.”

Tex sits up. “Is that it?” she asks, nodding at the cardboard box in his other hand, the package not larger than a deck of cards.

“Mmhm.” York seats himself cross-legged, cuts through the tape sealing the box with his knife. “Do you just put this in yourself, or…?”

Tex’s hands clench into fists. “I can’t. The access panel’s in my back.”

The last person to swap out her fusion cells was the Director. He kept them locked in his office, in a safe even she couldn’t break, so that when she need a replacement she had no choice but to come to him.

York looks at her serious, almost sad. “Well, I’m sure D can show me how,” he says gently. “Just let me know if I fuck up, all right?”

Despite herself, Tex smiles. “All right.”

She unzips her undersuit, stripping down to her waist, as York continues unpacking the fusion cell. It’s a small thing, only a couple inches long, completely enclosed in metal. “I thought it’d be glowing,” says York, faintly disappointed.

Delta immediately begins lecturing him on the structure and making of fusion cells, which York tolerates for about two and a half seconds before cutting him off. “All right, all right, just show me how to put this thing in…. Shut up,” he adds, flushing, at Tex’s snort of laughter. “You know what I mean.”

“After every _that’s what she said_ I’ve had to endure from you…”

“Yeah, yeah.” York sits down behind her, traces one cautious finger down the seam in between Tex’s shoulder blades, just to the left of her spine. “This… this doesn’t hurt, right?”

Tex shakes her head. “Nah.”

The panel clicks open and Tex sighs in relief at the rush of hot air escaping. She can hear her own fans, whirring frantically. D, in both her head and York’s, is fascinated. _This is the body I might have had,_ he says, in response to Tex’s wordless inquiry.

York hesitantly touches the casing inside her; it sends a quiet thrill through Tex, a sort of queer, breathless feeling. “I’m not made of glass, you know,” she says quietly.

“I – I know,” responds York. He laughs under his breath, self-conscious. “I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t.”

York’s not a lockpicker by accident; he has long, deft fingers, and he navigates the fiddly, complicated process of safely taking out the old cell with light, precise touches. Closing her eyes, Tex sits still and clears her mind, focusing on nothing.

“You doing okay?” York asks quietly.

“Mmhm.”

It’s not something Tex is even sure she can describe, despite the many languages at her disposal. Intimate, perhaps, having someone else touch her in a place so rarely exposed. Someone she _trusts._

 _You are very calm,_ Delta says.

_So?_

_I was merely observing._ He doesn’t sound snide or offended, merely quietly pleased.

The worst part is always the disconnection of the old cell; there’s a snap, and a sudden feeling of grey weakness. Tex shudders, closing her eyes, hands knotted tightly together in her lap.

“Tex?” York brushes his hand over her arm. “You okay?”

It’s not dizziness exactly, but a hollow, tight feeling, as if she needs to breathe but can’t. “Just put the new one in,” she manages, sharp.

For two long, horrible seconds York fumbles with the fusion cell, and then he snaps it into place, and –

Tex gasps, energy flooding back into her, the world suddenly crystal clear again. She flexes her tingling fingers, stretches her legs out in front of her, cracks her neck from side to side. Chuckling, York presses the panels closed. “Better?”

“Hell, yes.” She arches her back, testing, making sure everything’s in place. Giddy with new energy, Tex leans back against York, flicks him under the chin. “Thanks.”

He grins, tentatively wrapping his arms around her waist. “No problem, partner.”

“You promised me you wouldn’t do the accent again.”

“Sorry.”


End file.
